


The Long Way Home

by Piper1016



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, UBFL Regrowth, UBFLSPRING20, bethyl, one shot possible prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper1016/pseuds/Piper1016
Summary: This is my entry for ultimatebethylficlist Spring event Regrowth. Hope you all like it! Thanks to ultimatebethylficlist for hosting!*Prequel to The In Between*
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 15
Kudos: 71





	The Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!

After an impossibly long dreary winter, it was finally spring. The breeze blew lightly through the open door of the coffee shop. Tendrils of hair that had fallen from her ponytail tickled at the nape of her neck. Everyone that came in was in a good mood as they ordered their coffee.

Sun, flowers, shorts and flip flops. Rainbows and butterflies.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. Honestly, Beth couldn't bring herself to enjoy the good weather. The blooming cottonwoods were making her eyes water and her nose stuffy. The bright sunlight powering through the big front window was giving her a headache. And having to pretend like she was happy about it all made her even more grumpy.

She turned her back on the window, taking a second to give her eyes a rest from the sun but heard voices as they approached and inevitably entered the shop. They'd been busy since her shift began just before noon. Apparently everyone was out and about today needing their damn coffee.

Beth sighed and put a smile on her face - being a bitch of a barista didn't get you any tips, she turned towards the customers. "Hi, how are ya' today _,"_ she said with fake cheer.

Two men stood at the counter in front of her. Merle and Daryl Dixon.

Merle was much older and rougher around the edges than his younger brother. And he was a talker. Not that Beth normally minded. She rather enjoyed his easy laugh and stories that were so crazy she wondered if they were even true. Something told her that they were true. Those Dixon brothers could raise hell if the rumors were anything to be believed.

Daryl, on the other hand, seemed to be the opposite of his brother. He was ruggedly handsome, soft spoken and seemed easily embarrassed by Merle. Always mumbling, " _Merle, leave the girl alone. Let her work,"_ or something to that effect.

Merle really didn't bother her. Some people that came into the coffee shop were too high-hat for their own good. Acting like they've forgotten they live in small-town Georgia and got their kicks out of making the girl behind the counter feel lowly. Their town had grown quite a bit, especially in the summer months when the tourists retreated from the bigger cities to the smaller more quaint towns, but still, a small town is a small town and this one wasn't much different than the next if you asked Beth.

But back to the Dixon brothers; she hoped maybe Merle would lift her spirits, at least make her laugh a little. And, well, she enjoyed Daryl's brooding, quiet demeanor. Sometimes she could get him to talk. Asking him to elaborate on a story Merle was telling, or just by asking him how his day was going. Most of the time she got short, half-answers, " _My day's fine. Yours?"_

Today, though, Daryl looked at her a little longer than usual, pausing at her eyes. She felt squirmy under his intense blue-eyed scrutiny.

"You okay? He surprisingly asked.

An unexpected, and unwanted bubble of emotion lodged in her throat. She quickly cleared it away and answered, "I'm fine, thank you."

Turning her back to them, she began fixing Merle's iced coffee - more cream and butterscotch flavoring than actual coffee. Daryl grabbed his usual, a can of Monster Energy from the mini-fridge under the counter.

He wasn't a big coffee drinker, he said the stuff will kill you eventually. To which she'd always quip, " _And that stuff won't?"_ Pointing to his energy drink. Though Daryl was the quieter of the brothers, they did have their fun banter. She found herself wishing their fun banter would maybe turn into _flirting_ fun banter.

Today, his more in-depth inspection of her made goosebumps break out over her bare arms. Was it her imagination or did she feel his eyes roam over her backside? Na'. It had to be her imagination running wild again. She was always told as a child she had a wild imagination.

Why would someone like him be interested in her, or care about her feelings in any facet? She was pretty, that much she was well aware of. She never let it go to her head because there were plenty of things she did _not_ like about herself. And pretty only got you so far. Lots of guys were interested in pretty and not much else, not caring what was under the superficial surface. She wasn't sure which category Daryl fell under - only interested in the superficial or was he interested in what was under the surface. She was also much younger than him. Naive to the ways of the world, unlike Daryl who seemed well versed in the hardships of life.

To be fair, she had been dealt a few hard blows. Not getting into the college she wanted. Getting in a somewhat major car accident a couple of years ago breaking her wrist, require two painful surgeries to repair it. There were a few other blips along the way too. Most recently, and the worst by far, the death of her father.

When her mind turned to her father, it suddenly dawned on her what day it was. They'd lost Hershel a year ago to the day. That explained her case of melancholia. Guilt compacted her grief for letting the date slip her mind.

When she turned back around Daryl was still inspecting her. She felt herself flush with the heat of emotion. Her hand shook when she rang up their order, half-listening to Merle talk about a funny incident that happened that morning. She fought back the tears that burned her throat.

They must have gotten the hint that she wasn't up to their normal chit-chat because they soon left with Daryl not saying anything more. Adding to her anguish, they must've thought she was rude.

* * *

Closing time took its time getting there but at last, it was nine o'clock. She had sped through closing chores, figuring if she skimped on them it wouldn't be that big of a deal because she was on the schedule for opening tomorrow anyway.

Her father's voice sounded in her head, _Never half-ass something you can full-ass, missy._ She must have heard him say that a hundred times. She never thought she'd actually miss it, yet here she was missing it and wishing to hear him say it, that stupid saying of all sayings, one more time.

Locking the back door that led from the shop to the alleyway behind it, she was thinking in fifteen short minutes she'd be home where she could close herself in her bedroom and finally let her pent up tears fall. As she turned towards her car, slipping the shop keys into her purse, she stopped short. Along the brick wall across from her was Daryl Dixon casually leaning up against his motorcycle, smoking a cigarette, wearing his usual leather vest with wings on the back that, she heard, supposedly signified some sort of biker gang.

"Hey," he said, blowing smoke up and into the air.

Beth didn't much care for smokers, or rather people smoking in the vicinity of her lungs, but she found herself oddly attracted to this cool guy, bad boy attribute of his. It fit him.

He did it all so well. The leaning casually against his Harley. The smoking. The dark and handsome and possibly dangerous persona.

Beth looked to the right and then the left, sure he must be talking to someone else. Only there was no one else in the alley.

"Hey?" She said, the word sounding more like a question.

He pushed off with a booted foot, flicked the cigarette to the ground and walked to her, stopping a couple of feet away just out of arm's reach. Not that she'd be reaching for him.

"What's up?" She asked, trying her best to sound casual. _Oh yeah, there's a hot guy waiting for me in the alley every other day of the week. No biggie._

"Earlier when you said you were fine you were lying." It was a statement. He wasn't rubbing her face in the fact she lied. Wasn't accusing her of anything. He was just stating a fact.

She thought of lying again but apparently, he read her well. The idea that he could tell when she was lying made her feel, well, special. And the fact that it made her feel special made her feel young and silly.

"Yeah, just a bad day I guess."

"Why?" he asked.

He didn't seem the type to ask why if he didn't actually want to know so she told him exactly what was causing her bad day. "My daddy died a year ago today."

Daryl took a step closer to her. "That's rough."

She appreciated that he didn't try to placate her by saying something cheesy or give her the dreaded _I'm sorry_. How was she supposed to respond to that she wondered every time someone said it to her. She got the feeling she was expected to say, _Oh, it's fine_. That wasn't right either because it wasn't _fine_.

She nodded because words made it a little too real. Those damn tears burned her eyes again, quickly she blinked them away.

"When I'm havin' a bad day, sometimes a ride makes me feel better."

A ride? Was he being vulgar? Daryl didn't seem like the type to be that way but maybe she'd been wrong in her initial assessment of him.

When she only stared at him he jutted his chin towards the motorcycle behind him.

"Oh? Oh!" She suddenly understood what he meant and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, hoping the shadows hid it well enough. "Good idea. Maybe I'll take the long way home."

His lips twitched into something in between a smile and a grin. "I was wondering if you'd like to take a ride with me," he clarified.

"Me? And you. On your bike?" She questioned. _God, he must think I'm the biggest idiot on the planet._

She'd never been on a motorcycle before. Her daddy would _not_ have had approved of this when he was alive. Her mother would probably smile to herself, telling Beth to be safe. Her sister, Maggie, would shove her onto the bike herself.

"I'd like that very much," she decided. Like Maggie said, she thought too much. She needed to just act sometimes.

He nodded and gave her that half-smile again. They walked the short distance to the bike where he took an extra helmet from the saddlebag flung over the back end of the seat. Instead of handing it to her, he set it on her head and fastened it under her chin himself, his fingers brushing her soft skin.

"Sorry, this helmet don't cover your face," he said of the half-helmet now firmly secured on her head. "I promise to be careful."

He winked at her and easily mounted the bike, patting the small section of the seat behind him with the palm of his hand. She climbed on, suppressing the smile that was trying to break through the cool facade she was unsuccessfully putting on.

"Ya ready?" he asked.

"You betcha'," she answered with a smile, her tears all dried up.

"Better wrap your arms tight 'round me. Don't want ya' fallin' off," he said with a certain charm to his voice he didn't have when Merle was around to hear.

She gladly wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and they were off, the muffler rattling off the buildings as they headed, a little too speedily, out of town.

Her day was looking up after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment!


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